4821FIC: Past Forward (4/15) PG-13
- Apr 23, 2003Past Forward - Jamie (madjm@...)
Disclaimer, etc., with prologue
Jean knocked softly on Logan's door, knowing his hearing would pick it up
anyway. After a moment, she knocked again. When he didn't answer, she sent
out a light searching thought. He was in there, all right, but something was
She opened the door and searched the room with a glance. Logan was on the
floor, fully dressed, from flannel shirt to jeans to boots, passed out. Jean
knelt next to him and rolled him onto his back. "Logan?"
She was answered with a weak groan.
There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him physically. She saw a couple
of beer bottles decorating the room, but she'd never known him to pass out
drunk before. Usually, his healing factor more than compensated for whatever
alcohol he drank.
Jean brushed a hand over his forehead. His temperature seemed normal, too.
"Logan?" she said again.
"Jeannie." Logan groaned again and opened his eyes. "What's goin' on?"
Jean blew out a relieved breath and sank into a cross-legged position on the
floor. "I don't know. You were just unconscious. Do you remember what
He ran a hand over his face, then pushed himself into a sitting position.
Suddenly, he gasped, and an actual, honest-to-God smile bloomed on his face.
Jean stared in shock. She'd heard rumors that he smiled at Rogue like that
sometimes. Geez. No wonder the girl was in love with him. His face was
completely transformed. For the first time since she met him, he looked
"I remember," Logan said excitedly. "I remember it all. It came back, all at
once. I don't know ..." He stood up and began pacing the room, talking under
"Logan, that's wonderful," she said happily, standing up. "What do you
"I'm not from here," he said, frowning now. "Where's Marie?"
OK. Jean wasn't getting the connection there. But she'd never understood how
his mind worked, anyway. "That's why I came here," she explained. "Rogue's
missing. I had this strange ... feeling or dream. Jubilee was yelling about
Rogue and a mirror --"
"The mirror." Logan looked almost panicked now. "She's gone back."
"What do you mean 'gone back'? Gone where?" Jean wondered briefly if she was
still asleep. Either that, or Logan had developed a drug habit somewhere
along the way.
"I'd like to know that, too."
Jean spun around to find Scott in the doorway. She nearly sighed at the
sight of him. It was the middle of the night, and he looked perfectly
put-together, dark hair combed, black pajama bottoms and gray T-shirt not
even appearing wrinkled. He was beautiful. Jean pushed away the thought and
Logan was pulling clothing out of his dresser, ignoring them. Finally, he
sighed. "I'm not from this ... world. Neither is Rogue."
Jean exchanged a look with Scott. They didn't need telepathy to know what
the other was feeling: He's finally lost it.
"Logan ..." Jean began.
"Believe what you want, Red, but it's the truth." Logan pointed to his head.
"Look for yourself."
Again, Jean looked to Scott, and she wondered in annoyance when she became
incapable of thinking for herself. They weren't together; she couldn't
depend on his help anymore. Before he could even respond, she went to Logan,
framing his head with her hands. She'd gotten to the point where she was
strong enough to read him without the proximity; it had just become more of
a habit than anything.
Her eyes drifted closed, and immediately a rush of images sped through her
mind. A slide show of Logan's life on fast forward, the pictures flew by so
fast she could only grasp the edges of his experiences. And the feelings.
Happiness, freedom, pride, anger, joy, love,
She felt Scott physically pull her away from Logan, but it was his mental
cry that broke her link with Logan's mind. Trembling, she allowed herself a
wonderful moment in Scott's arms before she pulled away. Logan was sitting
on the bed, grinning at her.
"You remember everything," she said slowly. She'd never considered the
impact of a lifetime's worth of memories crashing into his brain. No wonder
he'd passed out. She'd been a moment away from fainting herself.
"Yep." Logan stood up and went to the closet, yanking out a backpack and
tossing it on the bed.
Jean turned to Scott, who was watching Logan and frowning. "He's telling the
truth, Scott. I don't ... I don't know where he's from, but it's ..." She
trailed off and sighed. There was no way to explain it. *It's different*,
she pushed the thought toward Scott, along with the feeling of otherness she
got from the images.
Characteristically, Scott didn't argue. He trusted her, even after
everything that had happened. Trusted her instincts, anyway. "What does this
'other world' have to do with Rogue?"
Logan looked up from shoving clothes into his bag. "Marie is from my home,
too. She ... we brought her here when she was a baby, for protection. I was
supposed to protect her." The happy look that had been hovering on his face
vanished. "I was supposed to protect her, but those government bastards got
me, and I didn't remember her."
"Where are you going?" Jean asked. "What does the mirror mean?"
Logan sighed, zipping up the bag and tossing it over his shoulder. "There's
a gateway from my world to yours. A device, nobody knows who built it or how
it works. But on this end, it looks like a mirror. It has to be nearby."
"There are a lot of mirrors in the mansion alone, Logan," Scott said. "How
do we find it?"
"*We* don't," Logan said, yanking the door open. He paused, looked back at
the two of them. "Thanks for everything. You --" he nodded at Scott. "Don't
let Red screw things up between you."
Scott nodded, and Jean rolled her eyes at the manly nonverbal agreement that
was struck right before her eyes.
"Hold on, Logan." For the moment, Jean decided to ignore Scott. There were
more important things to take of. "I'm going with you."
"No." Scott and Logan spoke in stereo, prompting another eye-roll. They
would never believe how alike they were, no matter how often they had their
"twin moments," as Jubilee called them.
"Rogue needs me," Jean said. "Don't ask me why, but I have a feeling."
Scott didn't waste time arguing with her. "If you go, I go."
"Shit." Logan stomped into the hall. "Dress for the outdoors. And hurry the
hell up. I'll track the girls."
"Logan." He stopped and glared at her. "I think ... check downstairs."
As he nodded and took off down the hall, Jean slid past Scott toward the
door. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"We have to hurry," she said quickly.
He started to speak, then snapped his mouth shut and ran a hand through his
hair. It left a little tuft sticking up on the right side, where his hair
was always just the tiniest bit stubborn. She loved that little rebellious
patch of hair, though Scott daily tamed it into place. By force of a strong
will, she didn't reach out and fix it for him.
After a moment, he spoke quietly in his "fearless leader" tone. "Stop by the
girls' room and pick up some clothes for them, too. I'll leave the Professor
a note, and I'll make sure Logan waits."
He left her standing there, hand half-raised to smooth his hair against her
"Stupid," she muttered, rushing from the room. She had a date with a magic
The one they called Girl had a name once. Meri, she was called, but more
often than not she refused to let herself remember the time before she'd
come to the castle. The memories of her parents, her mother's laughter, her
father lifting her up and twirling her around, only made her current
situation more painful.
In brief moments of clarity she knew she wasn't sane; she'd overheard her
parents talking about it when she was 10. Being a seer was hard enough; for
one who came into her power so young the balance of sanity was even more
Her insanity was the only thing keeping her alive.
She thought she had passed her 13th birthday, but she wasn't sure. She lived
in a small, cold room in the depths of the castle, only eating when she was
forced. And from time to time, he would call her to him and demand to know
She knew what Deven Maron was, how he leached Gifts from others, taking
their lives in the process. He would take her Gift, her curse, as well. But
he feared he would get her insanity, too.
So she lived.
Today, he wanted to know where he could find a healer. He had been searching
for one of the Untamed for some time, someone he could steal healing power
from. But she had something else to tell him instead.
"Are you listening to me, Girl?" he asked. His voice was even, but he was
pacing around, tapping his fingers impatiently on his thighs. There was
nothing remarkable about him at all. Average face, average body, average
voice. But his ruthlessness and hunger for power had made him a king.
Girl, kneeling on the cold stone floor, began to laugh. "She is coming," she
said softly, her voice rusty from disuse.
"Why are you laughing?" he stalked over to her, yanked her up by one thin
arm. He pulled her long, straggly blond hair out of her face. "Who is
Girl pulled away and walked past Maron, apparently aimlessly. She came to a
set of glass double doors and pushed them open before turning back. "The
princess is back," she said.
Maron froze. "Emmarie is here."
Girl nodded dreamily, leaning against one door and breathing in the fresh,
Maron rubbed a hand over his chin. He smiled, and its coldness brought a
shiver to Girl. She was glad she would finally be free of this man. Her job
"What is her Gift?" Maron asked.
It was Girl's turn to smile. "She will teach you to fly," she said, rushing
to the balcony and jumping into darkness.
The Nightowl: http://www.geocities.com/panda_grrl2000